Nothing excites me more than brave projects in music. I live for the discovery of something refreshingly different. In the case of the Expatriate Amplification Project, brought to life by Lenelle Moïse, the experience is rewarding not just because the project is creatively brave, but also because the execution and talent is audible in every breath.

This album consists in its entirety of vocals, with two loop machines allowing for breaths, squeaks, trills and plosives to create a backdrop for Lenelle Moïse and Karla Mosley’s breathtaking vocals. Other reviewers have commented on the contrast between Moïse’s contralto and Mosley’s soprano and I’m sure the reader will have read those, but bear with me as I wax lyrical about this combination.

As everyone knows by now I am a lover of great voices and great vocal performances. It should therefore be no surprise that I would love an album such as this. Moïse brings all the jazz, all the serious, all the heart and soul that is music and pours it over this album like molten honey. Mosley adds to this the passion, the fervour, the ambition the angels. When these two combine, as on the Body Part Song it lifts the listener as much as an Andreas Scholl Agnes Dei and perhaps more, because inside of Expatriate is more than training and perfection, there is life, lessons and a search for personal liberation.

So it is serious stuff, and the lyrics bear this out, with Motherland a lament for places left behind or places adopted, Baby Powder bringing us into the horror of social deprivation, Aliens taking us through disenfranchisement into the possibilities inherent in everyone. And it is this turnabout, this hope that is apparent in every song (no matter the bleakness of the landscape) that made this more than simply a glorious vocal album. If I had to sum it up with one word it would be “honest” and in today’s world I think that’s high praise.

This is interesting, rewarding, thought-provoking, beautiful and pure. It is not a flawless album, but its flaws are relevant to the experience, if anything the flaws are necessary.

On “The Makings” Moïse writes and Mosley sings “I got the makings of a great jazz singer”, and listening to both performers on this album, I can only concur.

As the random begins we see the composer staring out at a shuffling past, the mood is ambiguous, seems lazy languid except, the pictures invoked are so well sketched, defined, so haunting, that when he says the word Fragile, we can only murmur, ‘oh yes, and continue watching, listening.

This is an album about an artist looking back, looking around, to push gently forward as he takes notes, sets those notes into jazz and soul beds, sometimes adds heartbreaking melodies, this is an album creating those heavy sunset thoughts, driving slowly towards that redeeming sunrise epiphany.

As the piano in the tune, ‘Life Cant be’ slides a benign tension across the room, the crackle and fizz of a master story teller sinks into the way we lean into this music, the harmony and seduction is total, and we know that when the silence comes, the only answer will to be to scrabble for a new set or replay, replay and find the different secrets embedded there.

Then on to Rust.

When the sun sneaks into a cold room, we can see the tattered posters on the wall, see the wounded proud dust collection of cardboard and plastic greatness, timeless artifacts, a record collection made for Saturday night hedonism and Sunday morning review. This music is at once removed from the laughter and chaos of the gathering and street night and, also as a detached memory , perhaps, very much part of it.

The Writers chosen name is apt indeed, when I hear his music I see the colour gold, sometimes, or fire low orange, or yes, the scary defeat and strangeness of Rust.

For music that sadness is a coiled snake within the machine, there is no angst here, or fuzziness, or strident complaining for better things deserved, but rather sonic snapshots of bits of a life not often glanced at in this preening sometimes nervously insecure genre.

I believe this music.

Then right up to date, done as recently as June if the details on the mp3 are to be taken as gospel, I’m Doing Fine, is a wry yet uplifting groove, an optimistic feel pulses through. For this artist, it seems he has decided that the BATTLE of being independent, be creative, being this storyteller is a delight in itself, not a giddy scream oh yeah delight, but something deeper, stronger.

Rewarding.

All these tracks , these EPs deserve exposure, discovery is essential.

What instruments were played, who played them, who produced this collection, (Grammy award winner and Windham Hill founder, William Ackerman as it happens) are all technical facts that can be found on websites and on the CD cover, and need not concern us.

We are here for the journey.

Gliding across the oceans, the deserts, we slide in and out of the reflections, the shadows, the moods, the mystical yet unpretentious expressway of colour that starts in the chaos of the sun and learns to be beautiful, scary and gentle by the time it hits our Earth.

Blatt, in his music, reveals a simple secret, Nature can be harsh, can be fragile, can destroy and create, but it is never evil, never petty. The smallest sparkles of light, the unseen rhythms played out on the edge of the spectrum, have an internal grandeur, an incorruptible dignity.

So I get the first last, ===(!) , I am swooshed into childhood, dropped in the centre of the harum-scarum bliss of the amusement park, many shiny things grinning their come on, come on, step inside, all sparkle, all devious, all yummy.

Then an epic escape is promised, the vision willfully snatched away as it implodes, the air is thin here, can hardly breathe, nice to float (also: clever this, an entire Harold Budd album in just over 2 minutes)

People say this is cold, oh damn, people just don’t know what they are talking about.

Not a violin, IS a hymn, has desires, has such longing, self destructs with a sigh and a question.

Then

The voices within the downward swirl, this lovely storm fragmented sampled, saved.

The voices again, another place another heat, a certain time, still trapped though. Her sunset does not soothe, but is easy to love.

Do I wait till the sky grows stormy, so that the light is strangely refracted, sharp and pulsing? Closing all the windows so that the traffic battle cries diminish?

Then play the music loud.

Then in the hush after the 5th track has concluded, I listen to the echo, the ghosts still dancing, asking.

Merry now, thoughtful now.

Or

Do I take the earth brown square, that enfolds this music, walk the midnight streets, until I find a basement of old men, wounded artists, casual drinkers and sped up ravers, do I demand this music be played in the battered CD player behind the bar, and sit back and watch…

I watch an old ravaged man, wasted elegant, waltz strange with a boneless fluid jazz Lady.

I watch the hip click their fingers like they saw French movie stars do.

I watch the lonely caress the dew upon their tall glasses, connecting with the fragile of the new song.

I watch strangers ask other strangers to dance.

Or

Do I siphon the juice from this recording into my pocket player, catch a bus, train, crowded anything, watch the harsh normal unfold, as the dreamlike sighs from my too tiny earphones.

Then I realize that the essence of this music is that it is a portal.

Away from HERE.

An escape. A rescue, a sometimes sly often sensual deliverance, almost 22 minutes of beauty.

A whole bunch of stuff to get through,( it may take TWO blogs methinks) and in keeping with the NBT Ethos, a wonderfully eclectic bunch of sounds and clutter it is too. Before I begin, just one thing all those that read this ought to know: we here at NBT only write reviews on music we find/think/feel and BELIEVE is good, even maybe great, possibly future masterpieces even. If we think an album is crap, badly constructed, derivative, lazy or BLAND (the worst crime) we just won’t write about it. Independent artists have enough bother and difficulties getting their music out there without a whole bunch of negative opinions thrown together on blogs and podcasts. That doesn’t mean I DON’T sit at home and privately tear apart the latest clean cut emo worthy soul, or poke bitter fun at yet another fake punk with nice hair who got her dad or uncle to write some tunes for her :P. I am only human after all. J

Now

Onwards to the music.

BirdEatsBaby reviewed by Martin Smit

Holmes reviewed by William Elliot

China Doll EP – BirdEatsBaby (Independent Release)

When Rock flirts with Cabaret, the thrills of the former (daring, egotistical, immortal) are chilled in red glow by the latter (fragile, sacred, self destructive).

BirdEatsBaby knows that the stage they create and inhabit is a strange often lonely place, just a shiny razorblade edge away from the most chaotic heaven or the most serene hell.

The voice in these songs is almost innocent, fresh, almost too pure, it’s the friend’s voice during an out of control drug trip, and makes you feel safer than you should.

The piano is sleazy, and the rhythms swagger like show tunes Bob Fosse dreamt violent before he died.

This is music from a candlelit room, windows protected from the cities howl by dark thick curtains, a mirror showing flame flicker and slightly distorted images of the lipstick smeared wounded.

And underneath this sadness, a smirk, a quiet heart beat, not lost for those that listen closer and drift down amongst the swoops and cackles.

This will be the last Column from Trevor for a while as he takes leave to wander the world and conduct his very own music tourism

.Man Behind The Monitor: Norvell Molex Jrand The Jazz Suite

Trevor:The Jazz Suite states to listeners, “It is guaranteed you will hear music that you never heard before.” What do you do to ensure this?

Norvell:With the Internet become a main part of life and business finding music became an adventure! There is so much music out there between established and un established artist’s that it is incredible!! I mean the Internet has exposed me to jazz artists in Italy, France, Indonesia, Spain, and Lisbon just to name a few countries. With the world as your source for new music it is not that hard to guarantee that you can play something that your listening audience has not heard before. I personally have a Love for music that has been with me since childhood so Podcasting is a natural fit for me.

T:Where do you find your music for the show?

N:We find the music every where …. We get some from you guys Ariel Publicity, and Myspace.com, GraggeBand.com, Broad jam, Airplay Direct, small internet driven labels like Blue Canoe Records, direct contact with the artists, or there manager’s. The music business is in such a traumatic time it is a time for growth and change I would call the music industry the eternal child for it never grows up, but it is always learning and evolving.

T:How has your experience with hosting on MyPodcasts.net been? Would you recommend in to an aspiring podcaster?

N:We have been truly blessed because I started at this as a novice, but because of Mypodcasts.net it’s truly been educational. Jeff Dyson the owner has been remarkable. I just recently recommended Mypodcasts.net to someone who wanted to start a podcast. The rates a reasonable and there are constant improvements to better your experience with the service.

T:You’re also found on TheJazzSuite.net, where else can we find your show?

N:Not to boast, but when we creating this show we took a day or two and saturated as many Podcast Directories as I could!!!!!! It worked I also had to concentrate on the presentation I want the listener to enjoy what the hear because they are taking there precious spare time to listen to what I’ve been blessed to do. Back to the main question I’m on Ski Valley Radio British Columbia, and 95 Laser in France, We have an Ok listing in Google, and other search engines.

T:You were also featured in Podcast User Magazine talking about Podcasting and Jazz, for our readers who haven’t read the article, what was the essential point you were trying to convey?

N:Writing that article gave me a chance to express my thoughts in two areas of which I have contention with the music industry and how jazz is represented. If you look at music today the battle’s that are being fought are over information! That’s right Information no longer do we allow company’s to tell us what we like via the internet we go out and find it. The article really focuses on how jazz has not been allowed to grow like other musical segments; I tried to chip away at the stereotypes associated with jazz. My goal was not to talk down to the reader, but create a hunger to find the different segments of music that have sprung from the seed’s planted by jazz. Like any other music jazz holds history, memories, and future dreams yet to be played here is my definition of jazz:

“I will say that jazz to me is a “musical metaphor for what we wish to say and what we can’t say in life. As the melodic tones dance through our ears we inter pit a verbal response for a musical emotion. –Norvell A. Molex Jr.”